They Wander (But You Don't See)
by The Miffed Writer
Summary: Theon was born seeing people long gone. His mother told him that his Grandmother had this Sight as well. Some days he hates it. Some days it fascinates him, especially when Winterfell is so full of ghosts.


**This was a prompt for the song of ice and fire kink meme, but I can't find it again.**

The first One that Theon can remember noticing is that of a withered old woman watching him as he plays on Pyke. He'd been young enough that he wasn't bothered, but old enough to notice her. She was a crone wearing faded gray silk and onyx jewelry, her face a withered summer apple. Her mouth was pursed as a prune, hair thin and white. Her eyes, though, were clear and bright, despite their grey color- the same eyes as Theon's. When she caught his gaze she smiled and raised a small hand to him.

Then Yara called out to him, and Theon had looked away, just for a moment. When he'd looked back, the old woman had been gone.

He saw her often after that, always away from him, but always watching. He would sometimes stop and look at her. Eventually, his mother wanted to know who he was often looking at, and waving at.

"The Old Woman that watches over me." He had replied. His lady mother had gotten a strange look on her face then, and asked Theon to describe her. Finally she had told him that she had heard enough, and they would speak later, privately.

He had been afraid he'd done something wrong, then, and had spent the afternoon worrying. He made a conscious effort not to look at the woman, and had watched his mother anxiously as she entered his chambers that night and seated herself on his bed.

Slowly she began to explain. Theon had been born with the Sight, able to see those that have died but have not yet moved on- either by choice or by duty. The woman that he had described was his grandmother Asha, who had died some months before his birth. She had been able to See as well.

"There are dangers that come with this Sight, Theon," mother had warned, touching his face. "Some of the spirits you see will not be friendly. They might be angry or afraid. Some lash out at the living."

"I've never met an angry one." Theon whispered. He didn't like this, that he could be hurt by the dead. His mother had smoothed his hair and held him close- Ironborn are hard and cold, but his mother was warm and gentle, and Theon adored her as he was in awe of father.

"Mayhaps your Grandmother's duty is watching over you so that they do not harm you."

Theon felt better after that, and often spoke with Grandmother, when alone.

She never answered, but often she smiled at him, and laughed a throaty laugh.

Grandmother disappeared forever when Ned Stark took him as hostage and ward.

* * *

Winterfell is imposing, and frightening. Theon wants Grandmother, but she doesn't come to him, and he is alone among the Starks.

Robb is kind, and Lord Stark is kind and Lady Stark is...fair. Robb treats Theon as an equal, as does the family, and together they explore Winterfell's every nook and crevice. There are enough places to hide that you could suitably shelter an army, and Robb shows him how to sneak into the kitchens and steal sweets, where to hide from the cook. The stables, the wine cellars, everything is open to them.

It's when Robb shows him the crypts that Theon realizes why he likes it here.

The dead wander about Winterfell like some sort of fair, so lifelike that it takes months for Theon to be absolutely sure that he sees what he does. They trail after their loved ones or walk the battlements, invisible to all but him.

There is one man who stays in the practice yard, laughing at the boys when they train- he is dark of hair but full of smiles and laughter, catcalling them when they make a mistake.

 _"You swing the sword, boy, not chop it!"_

It's very distracting. He seems to like Arya and Bran the most, touching their hair and grinning at their antics. They know him only as a cold shiver that appears sometimes, but this is the north, and cold shivers are so normal they barely register. He stares after the serving girls and makes wolf whistles at them, grasping at their bodies and sighing in frustration. He treats Lady Stark with such respectful distance that she's not aware of his presence, and Lord Stark...well, occasionally, with enough willpower, the dead can reach the living, and though Ned is convinced it was the boys who switched all of the wine, Theon knows otherwise. He takes the punishment, though, without complaint though he does eye the ghost.

From then on, Brandon Stark is more careful not to get the boys into too much trouble.

* * *

Lord Rickard Stark stays in Lord Stark's solar, or the library.

Occasionally he wanders the crypts.

He frightens Theon.

There is no warmth in him, not anymore.

It happens sometimes, death will change a person, especially after something traumatic. Overall though, he's harmless, just keeping an eye on his kin and wasting time.

* * *

The bastard has people that look after him.

Theon sees them often, most often a woman that looks like Snow, with his hair and face. She walks with him and stands behind him. She cheers him on when he trains and, once when Theon looked into the bastards chambers, stroked his hair when he was ill, singing a lullaby in low, haunting tones.

She'd turned to stare at him after a time.

"Who are you?" The woman had grinned and stood, before standing. Theon moved out of her way and followed her down into the Stark crypts. She walked past the ghost kings who watched them go sternly, danger in their eyes and direwolves lying at their feet, growling threateningly. She stopped before the stone of Lyanna and looked over her shoulder at him, before she disappeared.

Lyanna Stark was just as theatrical as Brandon, then.

The other ghost is one he recognizes immediately from the stories his father had told him.

A man as beautiful in death as in life, with liquid silver hair and violet eyes. He played the harp sometimes in the godswood. He would try and speak with Snow as he studied, smiling in sympathy when he made a mistake with his sword play, and trying to whisper encouragements into his ear during archery. Surprisingly, though, he seems to like Sansa as well, smiling at her poetry and wincing in sympathy wen Arya embarrasses her.

He sees Lyanna and Rhaegar walking together in twilight once, hands clasped, looking almost alive.

Theon wonders at how how they look at one another, the love there, and doesn't understand how anyone could make Rhaegar out as a monster when he looks at Lyanna like she's hung the sun, moon and stars, and how anyone could think he stole her when Lyanna leans on him like he's the only thing keeping her standing (the dead don't get tired, one of the foot soldiers tells him once, when they're alone).

He leaves them to their love, and pities Jon Snow- who lives a lie and knows nothing.

* * *

By the time of King Robert's arrival Theon knows every ghost that walks the land by sight, if not by name. He's learned to tell when one is present, and to recognize one.

When the Lannisters arrive, Theon catches sight of a blonde woman behind Queen Cersei and Ser Jaime. She wears scarlet, however unlike the other Lannisters (for who else could she be with that blonde hair and those green eyes?), she gives off no arrogance, merely confidence. She smiles at him.

Cersei doesn't look so much like her as Jaime, remarkably.

He creeps out during the feast and finds her alone in a hall, watching the stars.

"My lady, I am Theon Greyjoy."

 _"I know."_ She says simply. _"It is quite the thing to be seen again, after so long."_ She sighs and looks away. _"Forgive my children, please. Whatever they might or might not do, know that they are not all bad. There is good in them, but it has been twisted after so much pain, you see."_ She explained quietly.

"How?"

 _"My daughter's pain is the loss of a mother, as all of my children feel, without sufficient support from my lord husband. They had a loveless childhood, and my darling girl was born just that, a girl. She had no patience for dresses, she wanted swords, honor. She had to settle. She was wed to a man who loves her not, who whores and drinks and hits her as if she were a tavern whore. And Dear Jaime, alone. Imagine if you will, Theon Greyjoy, to be under control of a man who if ready to burn a city to ash to ensure victory. Who kills the innocent. To be sworn to him. My son killed a king for the good of the realm, and has heard no true thank you in 10 years. And Tyrion...a dwarf , a kinslayer from birth, wanted by none, scorned and laughed at. To know no mother, or father, only tyrant. Understand their pain, but please forgive them."_ Joanna begged. Theon nodded.

"I understand, my lady."

Joanna sighed. _"I've watched. That's all we do, we who walk the earth. No future. No present. Only the past. Our fates were laid before us, you see, and my children did as any other, walked the roads that were set for them, though theirs is darker and fraught with dangers of their own making."_

Theon shivered at her words, and wondered just what the Queen and her brothers were capable of to receive such cryptic warnings from their own mother.

"I thank you for you words of wisdom my lady and offer you my condolences."

 _"Thank you, Theon Greyjoy, for your words and you acceptance. May the Gods have mercy on you"_

She disappears then, a silver light surrounding her, before the tingling upon his neck is gone.

Theon says a prayer for her, and then returns to the feast, determined to enjoy what peace there is left.


End file.
